


Bad Idea

by boygenius



Series: Love's Stupid [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dick tries really hard, Fighting, Hair-pulling, Jason is a lovesick puppy, Kind of sexy choking, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boygenius/pseuds/boygenius
Summary: Tired of his absentee spy bullshit, Jason tracks Dick down and breaks into his hotel to give him a piece of his mind. Too bad Dick's got him wrapped around his fingers.





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read part 1 to get this, I'm just so rarely inspired like this it's easier to tack this on as a part 2. And it's more like, poetic or something I guess.

_The air in his lungs was stale, warm, and stagnant when he woke up. A small breeze crested his cheek, warmer and a little damp and followed closely by a dewy kiss pressed against his cheek. One kiss became two, two became three, three became four. And number five pecked between his eyes like that bedtime story bullshit about stork bites and angel kisses. Jason’s angel had cool fingertips which wandered aimlessly across his chest and only came to a stop when Jason cracked open one eye._  

_“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your early morning molestation.” Dick was watching him, all coiled and coy and resting his cheek on Jason's chest. His eyes were still sleep-fogged but he stared up at Jason with this unwavering clarity that probably shone out from the core of him. His fingers drummed against Jason's clavicle and snuck up his throat, finding a home twisted up in Jason’s hair._

_“I knew you were awake,” he yawned, reaching across Jason for a discarded corner of the sheet. Jason caught his wrist and squeezed, a cheap knock-off of Dick’s patented full body kisses that always left Jason feeling just a little bit buzzed._  

_Dick smiled and crawled up his body like an innocent thing, a predatory thing. He kissed him. He laughed. Dick smelled like eucalyptus and minty Dura wrap, he tasted like sunshine and sugar rush and his early morning laughter crept down Jason’s throat and coiled at the bottom of his lungs._

_Jason wrapped one hand around his waist and the other he curled loose around Dick’s pretty neck. Noted how the laugh slid into a gasp when he pressed his thumb against Dick's windpipe, just enough to make him lose his breath._

“Jason.” 

“ _Jason!_ ”

His head was pounding with the force of ten billion drums, or a couple ounces of blood flowing through the swollen bruise blooming under his eye. Dick had got him good there, but Jason wasn’t getting choked out and loomed over at 3 am so he took his little defeat and moved on.

“You're probably about to spit that tired rhetoric about how I'm overreacting. Being hotheaded. Letting my emotions rule me.” Jason curled his fingers around Dick’s throat like a drowning man grips the slick plastic of a well-aimed lifesaver.

Dick’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest jumped as he tried to pull more than shallow breaths into his lungs and slim fingers grasped at Jason's hand. But Jason saw the split second where Dick’s movement became mechanical before sliding into an organic shell that made the overtly sensual curling of his body seem natural. Maybe Dick had him on years spent training, but Jason knew fake when he was strangling it.

For a moment though, he let it be. It was comfortable, letting Dick play a part. He allowed him to run his fingers up Jason’s arm and crest his shoulders, even loosened his grip on Dick’s throat so he could lean up and press an open kiss against the underside of Jason’s jaw.

“Knock it off,” he squeezed his neck and squeezed any remaining faux-sexy out of him, skimming the lie off the top and leaving only the real Dick behind. The real Dick glared up at him from beneath his lashes and bared his teeth a little. Jason saw he had knocked one out. Unless that blank space peeking out from behind his canine had always been there, but Jason had had his cock in that mouth enough times to know it well.

“You're not overreacting,” Dick had pried Jason’s fingers open enough to catch a breath and speak. “Overreacting would be yelling at me over the phone. You're being a _goddamn psychopath_.”

Jason ground his teeth and tore his hand away from Dick. “That was plan A, but you never answer my goddamn calls. Don't act like I never tried the _rational_ way, I did all but send a fucking carrier pigeon. And I would have done that, but I never know where the hell you are.” He slammed his fist down next to his head with enough force to make dust jump up from the floor.

 Dick didn't flinch. Jason glared up at the ugly tin lamp on the table above them and tried to control his breathing, else his voice would shake or he’d start yelling.

“Little Wing,” the pet name stuck him like a pin and he grunted. “Look at me.”

For a moment he did, he looked at Dick and saw the cut on his lip and the bruise on his cheek that spread slow like a dark amoeba. His eyebrow had split delicately in two, diagonal to his iris like some punk kid, and Jason knew if he looked at the couch he would see a tiny smear of blood there. Jason looked at him for a moment while a mauve idea formed behind Dick’s eyes, he watched the formulation of Dick’s God-given charm and he covered those eyes and snuffed it out.

“Hm,” Dick tipped his head back, oh so accidentally baring his neck. “I like this game.” A flicker of a smile appeared somewhere on the glint of Dick’s teeth, like a lighter being sparked. 

Jason ignored him. “You still got those things in your eyes?”

The lighter was dropped and his smile went out. “Well, yeah. But I wouldn't -”

“After you pretended to be dead, the list of things I thought you wouldn't do got a hell of a lot shorter.”

 Any good cheer left in Dick sobered up and squeezed itself into nonexistence, leaving behind one last spark in the downturn of his lips and the winding tightness of his jaw. “I wouldn't do that.”

Jason rolled his eyes, kicking up a nice sharp stab of pain in one side of his face. Burst blood vessel in an eyeball. Sexy. “Been six months since you spoke a word to me, coincidentally the same time I last touched you. So just say your piece. 

Dick took one of those deep parent breaths, one of those _I suppose I'll humor you_ breaths, the kind that made Jason feel ten years old and small and shameful. He could almost feel the dirty fabric of his Catholic school uniform draped over his little body, sagging under the weight of Dick’s exasperation. Before he realized he was doing it, he squeezed his hand again and Dick squeaked at the pressure.

“You’re,” he blinked hard. Jason felt his lashes against his palm. “You're upset I've been gone. I didn't contact you. I know, I'm sorry.”

Dick’s jaw tightened and loosened with all the leisure of a shifting sand dune. “But you've got to agree with me on this.” The tip of his tongue appeared between his lips, poking at a split conceived on the seam of Jason’s glove. “That's not deserving of having my cover blown and hotel room broke into, don't you think?”

Jason thought to spit everything Dick had done in the past year or so was deserving of a hell of a lot more than a little breaking and entering, _but why tell when you can show?_ Even kneeling on the ground, when Jason straightened up he was a formidable wall rooted on a deep foundation of pig-headedness. He grabbed a fist full of Dick’s obnoxious Queen pajama shirt and hauled him up so they could look eye to eye like real men do. Or something.

Dick didn't flinch. No, he stared back at Jason with iron clad patience lined with steely determination. Jason wondered if he would try and hypnotize him. He wondered if faux-death had rotted some of Dick’s more delicate morals.

“You replaced me.”

Jason’s heart did an ugly little somersault at the cold panic that cracked like old firecrackers in Dick’s eyes. Hands like birds flew up and pushed at Jason's chest, but Jason just gave him a good shake and he stilled.

“No, no I didn’t. You're jumping to conclusions.” Dick Grayson was a man of many masks, hallelujah. This time he snapped the plastic mask of The Rational One over his face and thought Jason fool enough to believe it.

“You replaced me,” he glanced up at a scuff on the wall and regarded it a moment. “You let me believe you were dead, _again._  And you replaced me. Just like _he_ did. Found yourself a shiny new toy, just like he did.” Jason tipped his head slowly from side to side.

“Although,” he said, tightening his hold on Dick’s shirt. “ _Midnighter_ probably isn't as spry and bendy as Timmy, is he? But I bet that doesn't bother you, you're always the one being bent over.”

Dick made a noise like he was dying and bit his tongue, dark-rimmed eyes darting around like his escape plan would be written somewhere in the air, but they froze in place when Jason continued, “Yeah, I figured it out. You were too busy playing spy and being a slut.”

Jason parted his lips and watched him, his next move one of silence rather than of spitfire. He let Dick squirm out of his hold and sit up, leaving nothing between them but his pretty hands and a breath. He could see the cuts and freckles on Dick’s face, a tiny beauty mark and a tremendous bruise. He waited.

“Do you um,” he bit the tip of one of his fingers. “You remember the last time we were together?" 

Jason sat back on his haunches and watched him, the droozy blue light of 3:12 am reflecting cool venom in his eyes. “I do.”

Dick nodded and tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. “I said I loved you.”

“I remember.”

He was getting closer now, no longer hiding behind his fingers and the warm shield of space, his arms coming around his neck and his knees sliding against the floor. He smelled distantly sweet, purposeful leftovers from a non-existent lover’s perfume. Something light and powdery, something to fit whatever narrative Spyral had spun for him. Jason allowed his hands the small comfort of Dick’s gracious hips and tried to forget and remember all at once.

“I meant it, I mean it. Let me fix it.” His lips were just as cool as his fingertips, both skimmed his cheeks and his neck, little sips of water. Jason's throat was dry. He wanted those fingers in his mouth and those lips around his cock, but he came here for a reason and it wasn't (exactly) to get laid.

“Dickie,” he sighed, and Dick was so close he could feel the smallest jolt seize his tight body. He would crack open his own ribcage and offer up his heart for him, but some things have to be done. Jason Todd stepped up to bat and closed his eyes when he swung.

“An _I'm sorry_ blowjob isn't gonna fix this.” It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, even if his cock disagreed with this entire plan. He just wanted to make the break and get the hell out before Dick used his magic powers to seduce him even more than he already had. _If that's even possible,_ he thought _._ He tasted bile.

But shit, Dick didn't even miss a beat. “Then I'll have to do more than that.” Jason Todd stepped up to bat and he swung with his eyes shut. He missed, and _lookit that folks_ he spun all the way around like a cartoon character.

Dick's hands were on his chest and Jason thought he was a wall and a tank until his back hit the floor and then it was _Dick_ on top of _him_ and Jason was so turned on he could feel it in the slick padding between each of his vertebrae.

_Okay._

Some philosopher probably said something about blah blah don't fuck your problems, but whoever that was had never had a problem with adoration behind his teeth and promise between his legs. Jason decided that when you got to hell, it hardly mattered who you fucked to get there. Actually, he knew it totally did but decided he’d probably shot too many people and cut off too many fingers to turn back now. And he hadn't gotten laid in six months (damn him, damn him to hell for ruining Jason for anyone else).

“You know, we were having a conversation.” Dick's hair was still too short but a little longer than the last time they'd been together, soft and dark like fine soot running between Jason's fingers. “I didn't come all the way to the middle of fuck-all nowhere in goddamm Spain to…” He was smart enough to trail off instead of just moaning in the middle of his sentence like a chump, despite still voicing his agreement with Dick’s hand in his pants.

“You came because you were mad at me,” Dick’s lips were pressed up under his jaw like the muzzle of a gun, and the hand that wasn’t jacking him off was curled around the back of Jason’s neck. “So I’m making it up to you. I’ll say sorry however many times you want me to, but I'm showing you how sorry I am.”

Dick was wearing mismatched pajamas that hung on him a little, and Jason went to war with himself over whether they were borrowed from the leather freak Jason had tracked down on his ghetto ass version of the Batcomputer. No, he didn't think about the pajamas. He just tore them from Dick's body; first the shirt, launched across the room and falling somewhere behind the couch, then the pants. Dick wasn’t wearing briefs. He already knew this, his body knew mornings pressing Dick into the bed and taking him as slowly as Jason was capable, his hands knew evenings slipping into Dick’s sweats while he made coffee for the next day.

The cavern between his eyes, the dark space there, it knew Jason's new existence was without this pleasantry. Dick was gone, and with him went all the mornings and evenings and in-betweens that might have been. No dewy kisses, no golden sex, no cool fingers, no flighty footsteps in the next room when Jason woke up. All the times he'd scorned and scoffed and skeddadled had built up and tilted some dumbass universal scale that dunked him in a thick soup of His Own Medicine that coated the inside of his mouth. Now, even Dick's desperate jab at makeup sex left bitterness in the slant of Jason’s hips and the backs of his teeth.

Not that he couldn't white knuckle through it if he had to.

The rip of a single use lube packet shook him from his untimely reverie (Probably a side effect of the drug called Grayson) and Jason realized the naked little sneak had disabled all the traps in his gear. His pants hung embarrassingly open as if the sheer power of Jason’s horniness was warping everything in his immediate vicinity, and the underlying hum from the mechanics in his armor had fallen silent.

Dick’s elbow landed on the carpet by Jason's head and he stretched himself thin and sinuous over Jason's body, too small to cover him but still enveloping him in entirety. Dick's hair hung down over his face, like black downy feathers or tendrils of smoke, his chest brushed Jason’s and he could feel the half-formed moans curling their way up Dick's voice box. Dick had his fingers up inside himself, his cocksucker lips bitten reddish and his telling eyes squeezed shut.

Jason took his face in his hand, thumb pressing into one cheek and fingers in the other, palm cupping his chin in between. He kissed him. It was good, one of those kisses where there's no space between you and it feels like some pulsing blue bond is growing in the breaths exchanged, Jason wondered if he couldn't open his eyes and see every detail of his and Dick's intertwined futures laid out before him.

“You left me.” The hand that wasn't holding Dick's face had found itself planted in the depression of his collarbone. Jason's not-realization was reflected back at him in Dick’s eyes.

“But I'm back. I'm here now, Jay.” Dick kissed him, but Jason was stone. “Be with me here, be with me now.”

Dick was begging, trembling with a churning cocktail of unease and sex energy. It would be so easy to just fuck that, to shut his heavy metal mind off and find intoxicating peace in the heat of Dick’s body. All he had to do was give in and let Dick shoulder the world, and Dick presented this to him on a shiny silver tray. How easy it would be because all Dick wanted was to give and give and give until the golden thread of his love was pulled loose from its spool in his chest and he had nothing more but his tireless body to give.

_And oh, the euphoria you'll experience when you give in to his warmth. Just let go, baby, kiss him and let go._

Jason _did_ kiss him, but it served as more of a shared deep breath. “You replaced me.” Tearing his eyes from Dick’s was like looking at the sun and it burned.

“No I didn't,” he said, his fingers brushing over Jason's brow like he could rub out all his bad thoughts. “No one could replace you. You're kinda special.”

Dick smile was dusty stained glass. Jason looked through him.

“You did,” he kissed him again, his hand arching around his ear to wrap up in Dick’s hair. “Ride me. Turn around.”

The hope that lit up Dick's eyes seemed born of a damp match. A paradoxical phenomenon that exploded while Dick's confusion tried to rein in his excitement.

“But I,” Dick's eyes were blue mice inside misty marbles, darting about inside the prison of his head. Jason was a clumsy cat trying to catch them, to keep his attention. “I wanna see you, Little Wing. Wanna remember you like this.”

Dick was fidgeting, from arousal or from discomfort Jason couldn't tell. Below him, Jason could feel every little moment echoing around his body. “I'm flattered,” he said, laying a half-assuaging hand on his hip.

“Turn around.” Dick finally did.

Dick's body was hidden treasure, cool and bright like cascading piles of gold coins that shifted like a living thing. He lowered himself into Jason's cock, pretty and poised like he used to when he was surveying a city at night. There was a scabbing bruise on his shoulder where Jason had thrown him into the door frame. His body was shiny and lit up by the first yawns of the rising sun, and by the dusty fluorescent street lamps outside the window. Jason had to remind himself he was getting all weird and flowery about fucking a guy he'd once shot in the leg, and _Christ_ he needed a smoke.

Dick wasn’t _loud_ , exactly. He'd been raised to perform (and to draw away bullet fire) so he could crow and holler and cry with the best of them, but he was also raised to swallow squeaks as knives and bullets tore his flesh, stuff wet sobs back down his throat when broken bones were reset by unsteady old hands or he was held hostage just a couple hours too long, and his stiff upper lip often rivaled Batman’s. So Dick wasn’t loud unless he wanted to be, and when he wanted to be he choked and whined and screamed Jason's name with such obscenity the hookers outside their hotel all simultaneously blushed.

Tonight, his screaming was dialed back to breathy little gasps and whimpers as he fucked himself. For a few moments, Jason was watching Dick ride a stranger, he was outside his own body. But Jason was the ocean. He was wild and volatile and he fucked Dick with the deep power of the sea crashing against the shore, which was never ending and stubborn but still broke up when the ocean pulled just right. And it was right, right there, _fuck fuck right there Jason!_

Jason had one hand fitted around the perfect curve of Dick’s hip, one hand curled so tight in his hair he might have been at danger of scalping him in the case of a particularly bouncy thrust. He watched as fingers that were not his own drifted down Dick’s thigh and brush the carpet, leisurely searching and searching. Jason released his hair and reached for it. He earned a sparkling smile thrown over a shoulder when he took Dick's hand, and he rolled his eyes.

“Been too,” Dick’s breath caught like a fish in a trap, he arched his back. “Too long, Jay. Too long.”

Jason looped an arm around Dick's chest and pulled him down on top of him. Dick wasn't light, but the weight on his chest was a comfortable and secure pressure.

“Bet your pretty neck.” He planted his boots on the floor and threw his hips up, slamming into Dick and smiling as he finally dragged a scream out of him. Dick’s pretty teeth clicked together as he snapped his jaw shut, his training just a moment too late to stop one curl of vocal smoke from the chamber of his throat.

Dick had a mouthful of crooked white pearls, charming and harmless from the time he was a grinning kid to a grinning adult. Sometimes when he was talking, his lips and his words would snag on a tooth that wasn't quite right and come out a little funny, a little misshapen but somehow just right. (Jason’s teeth were perfect, although his braces had been ripped out of his head by the Joker when he was sixteen, all his fucked up teeth had snapped right into place while he was crawling out of the Lazarus Pit.)

“Better remember this, no telling when I'm going to get to fuck you again,” Jason dug his fingers into Dick’s collarbone. “You -”

“It isn't just fucking, Jason.” Dick was breathless, his voice a pocket of air in Jason’s ear, his free hand coming back to twist up in his hair. “You know it's not.”

“Quit the sappy bullshit, cause that's all it is.” A vague ache lit across his hips, a satisfaction like he was stretching his legs in some goddamn meadow after months strapped in a wheelchair facing the white corner of an empty room.

“You drive me crazy, Dickiebird. So fucking crazy with that gorgeous body, with those damn eyes, and that mouth,” he caught Dick’s arm and kissed the crook of his elbow, he wanted to laugh when he heard Dick’s breath hitch. “I could go on for hours about that mouth, what it does to me. What it makes me want to do, what I wouldn't do for you - for that mouth.”

It was a mistake, a slip-up, an endearment too familiar not to fall back into the groove of. Dick opened his mouth but before he could damn Jason with some horrible whisper of adoration, Jason grabbed his leg and hiked it up to his chest and just slammed into him. Any bullshit he might have said about how much he _loved_ Jason, how much he _cared_ for him, how much he _missed_ him, all of it was dragged down and drowned by a scream that echoed off the walls.

Dick came, and it reminded Jason how perfect they were together. His strength was just enough to hold Dick together as the tempest inside him broke, a wet gasp escaping his love bitten lips as he shot off all over his chest like some outrageous porn star.

“Sean Cody just died,” Jason laughed cruelly as he fucked Dick through the storm, his pretty blue eyes hazy with post orgasm fog. It wasn't until Dick tipped his head back to look at him, his lips parted and his body rocking, did Jason finally come.

Inseparable. In that moment, they were inseparable.

When Jason woke up it was dawn. Dick clung to him, his fingers latched onto Jason’s shoulders and his knees locked around Jason’s ribcage. His head was bowed by Jason’s face, his lips pressed against his ear so Jason could hear his every breath.

Some good little part of him crawled up his throat and settled in the back of his mouth, it reminded Jason that he could stay. He could pull Dick closer, he could press kisses in his hair, he could hold him like a lover, he could wake with him in the morning. Maybe Dick would feel bad enough to linger for some morning sex, for a cup of coffee, for a goodbye kiss and a promise.

But with that goodness rose bile, contaminating it and turning Jason’s hope into poison. Any pleasure Dick could give him was only temporary, fading like afterglow and leaving him ill. Dick would leave again, and the only hope Jason could cling to was that if he left now he might be able to fuck someone one day without thinking of Dick.

And after mulling over all that, there was only enough goodness left to keep Jason from dumping Dick out on the floor. Instead, he bent and kissed his closed eyes and dragged his fingers up Dick’s spine, something just slightly less cruel than dumping him out on the floor.

“Hey pretty boy, get up a minute.”

Dick stirred and poured himself off of Jason and onto the floor, making no move to cover himself except to slip into Jason’s discarded jacket. The rest of Jason's armor lay in disarray on the floor around them.

As Jason stood, Dick managed to catch his wrist and plant kisses upon each knuckle and over a few prominent scars.

“Are you leaving?” _Hypocrite._ He looked up at Jason with those tragic blue eyes, laid out on the floor, ruining Jason’s sixth favorite jacket with sweat and sex energy _probably_. Fucking queen.

“C’mon Goldie, I’m not.” Jason leaned down and kissed him. When Dick tried to pull him back down, he smiled in a way that could have been fond. “Relax, I'm just going to take a piss. Had somebody laying on my gut for the past couple hours, y’know?”

For a long time, Dick just looked at him with those eyes. Under his lashes and wayward locks of hair, he looked up at him. He nodded.

“I love you, Little Wing.”

“I know.” He smiled. His teeth hurt. “I love you too.”

Satisfied, or perhaps just too tired to argue, Dick curled up with Jason’s jacket and fell back to sleep. Jason knew he would have to leave without it now, and it took him a minute to make peace with that.

By the time he had collected each piece of armor (and Dick’s stupid shirt) it was almost six. Hours prior, when he had broken in, he’d left the window open in Dick’s bedroom.

Dick’s hotel had a reputation, and no one found it too strange to see someone crawling out a window at six ten in the morning, and the old ladies Jason caught staring at him from across the street only waved as he descended the fire escape like any other one-time lover.

He waved back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sometimes taking requests and always commissions, hit me up if you want some porn or something.


End file.
